| Standing proud of the surface, a huge bonefish tail, the size of a mans
hand, twisted and curled as a new day dawned. From her barbel-like, inferior mouth, the
fish aimed powerful water jets at a small crab taking refuge in a calcareous skeleton on a
coral mound. Tiny particles of fine powder erupted into a shimmering cloud as she foraged
her white rubbery lips into the coarse marl bottom, breaking tiny blood vessels and
causing the lips to take on a hue of pink. Inperceptively, the tide rose and the bonefish
moved from the back of the reef, forward onto the flat. One hundred yards inside the crest
of the reef, the fish worked a course parallel with the flooding tide over an area rich in
clams, open shells and small crabs. All prey-sized creatures ‘froze’ as the
bonefish’s huge head, nearly a third of it’s thirty inch body, glided into view.
Every few yards she stopped, contorted and twisted her silver flanks, causing her tail to
break surface and wave like a small flag. Nothing disturbed the morning air or the fish,
except now, in the distance, the drone of an outboard engine. One hundred yards out in the ocean, I pointed the skiff to the edge of the reef and turned off the engine. The boat drifted towards the flat on it’s own inertia, assisted by the tide and a gentle breeze. I forced the point of the push-pole down into turtle grass growing on the reef upper slope and tied off a stern line. Val spotted the bonefish first and beckoned in hushed tones, "12 o’ clock, 100 yards, big fish, tailing". Not even stopping to take a look, I slipped down quietly into the cockpit and took the waiting #8 wt rod from the rack under the gunnel. A barbless size #2 Bonefish Critter, a local pattern, was already hanging from a loop in the 15lb tippet, tied the evening before. The fish was moving off to our right, on an even course, when I slipped over the side and made off quietly and slowly, in water yet too shallow for the skiff to float. Fifteen minutes later I was crouched in position, fifty feet in front of the fish with a perfect 45 degree angle to make the cast. Choosing a safe moment, I rolled the line into the air and extended it on the back-cast, measured the distance on the forward cast, extended the length again on the second back-cast and hauled it forward to land the fly eight feet in front of the fish. In a second, the beadchain eyes had sunk the fly to the bottom. On hearing the tiny splash of the fly, the fish tensed and eased up slowly towards a horizontal plane, her tail sinking slowly as she scanned for a potential food item. I gave the line a tweak to impart life, then let the fly settle to imitate a burrowing escapee. Signalled by a vortex in the water, instantly, the fish shot forward to suck in the steel and fur. Gulping air into a dry throat, I pulled a yard of line with my left hand, making a standard ‘strip-strike’. Feeling resistance to the 3407 point, I buried the hook to the bend, in the fish’s upper lip. The shallow water erupted.
Situated in Florida’s Upper Keys, this particular bonefish flat sits on top of a reef, fitting perfectly, Darwin’s definition for a fringing reef. It has all the characteristic zones, from it’s ocean side lower and upper slopes, the reef edge, the reef crest, the reef flat, the back reef, coral mounds, the lagoon and a narrow channel running parallel with the shore. Two of our guests took bonefish over twelve pounds, from this key, in 1998 and 1999. Fish of this size and larger are, curiously, notoriously hard to catch, yet more regularly captured by anglers than at any other popular destination. During the 16 weeks we fished the Florida Keys in 1999, for instance, five bonefish over fifteen pounds were recorded from flats in the Islamorada area. An abundant food-chain and low mortality rate allow large numbers of bonefish to grow into double figures. The most bonefish I have had to my boat in one day is three (averaging about nine pounds), although it is rare to catch more than one and that in itself is an achievement. Too much repeated fishing activity, in the same area, over consecutive days, brings about a change in bonefish routine. Stories of monsters lost, are ten a penny and my own most traumatic experience, goes something like this. I had the boat ‘staked out’ on the back reef zone before dawn, to ambush fish where they might swim in or out of the lagoon during the morning. Standing on the bow, holding the rod and the fly ready to cast, I caught a glimpse of a very large bonefish coming straight towards me at first light and quickly made a cast. I lost sight of the fish until it swirled, two yards in front of the bow. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, the fish had picked up the fly and carried on swimming towards me. Panic-stricken, it sped off at rightangles on a slack line and was probably doing 30 mph as the line tightened to the reel. On it’s first run, the fish broke the leader around a crab-pot hawser, 250 yards away! On another occasion during the eight week stint in the autumn of 1999, I had close encounters with four different double-figure bonefish in a single day, without a single hook-up! Where turtle grass in the lagoon ends at the back edge of the reef, I waited to ambush fish on their way to the flat, from a kneeling position in a foot of water. The first fish spooked when a slow retrieve brought it close to the coils of retrieved line floating on the water in front of me! Changing technique slightly, I held the retrieved line in coils and a big bonefish all but came in through the tip ring before spotting me and departing for the next zip-code! By the time the third big one came along, I had firmly decided that there would be no retrieve at all, I would leave the fly on the bottom, no matter what. I swear this fish (which I estimated at around 14lb) up-ended on the fly and watched it for at least 3 minutes! It came to within inches of the fly and just stared at it. Two smaller fish of 7 or 8 pounds appeared from nowhere and joined the investigation. For several seconds three bonefish were watching the fly simultaneously and they were so close to me that as well as kneeling, I crouched low to the water. I could imagine their conversation, " No, it’s okay, I’m not hungry, you have it!" After a few moments, the two smaller fish swam off and the big one followed! Something similar happened with a fourth fish, but I cannot remember it at all well. By now I was suffering from an overdose of adrenaline and near mental exhaustion. However, I still rate it as one of my best and most enjoyable day’s bonefishing, ever. Roger Baker Val and Roger Baker's Saltwater Flyfishing, Islamorada, Florida Keys. Seven days/nights luxury accomodation with large outdoor pool and private beach. All meals, packed lunches and use of tackle included. Sage fly rods and Abel fly reels, Penn spin rods, multipliers and fixed spool reels for your use and enjoyment. Five days guided flats fishing for bonefish, tarpon, permit and more, from skiffs, including three days with Florida guides; £950 based on two people sharing. Suitable for non-angling partners. Single person supplement. Telephone 01326 562439 (Atlantic Inn) or email Roger.Baker@btinternet.com for a brochure and more details. Weeks in spring and autumn now available. |
There were several fraught moments during the next
fifteen minutes, not least when the fish raced off the flat and out into the ocean, but
apart from twice when line engaged with rafts of ocean-born floating weed, I stayed in
control for most of the time and I don’t think the fish ever got more than 100 yards
from me. Avoiding delicate coral heads, Val waded across with the landing net and lifted
the fish, expertly, first time. Back at the boat I placed the fish in the release-well for
safety, then prepared scales, weigh-sling and camera to record a personal best bonefish of
13lb 4oz! Although feeling justifiably proud of the achievement, on reflection later, I
could see that it was just one of those occasions when everything had gone right. Right
place, right time, right conditions, right fly and right angler!